


Know I'm There

by CasualPahoehoe



Category: Chicago (2002)
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic, Moving On, cubs superstition, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualPahoehoe/pseuds/CasualPahoehoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amos Hart moves on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know I'm There

**Author's Note:**

> All of my love to thatworldinverted who beta read this for me and is undoubtedly the best human being on the planet.

Amos walked out of the courthouse slowly. He was numb. The hope of a baby, discovering that Roxie had made a fool of him again, too much after the last months. He pushed the courthouse doors open and braced himself for an onslaught of cameras and classless questions. Nothing. He spotted a cameraman hurrying down the street towards some kind of commotion. He was old news. Good riddance.

He went to work, did his job, and went home. If he was quiet these days, well, a man’s got a right to his privacy.

He went to the bar more often, always by himself, and if he put away a few shots of whiskey along with his beer, well, that was between him and the barkeep. If the tab got paid, what did it matter? 

He didn't have to clear out Roxie’s things, the auction took care of that. 

He took all the overtime he could to pay off Mr. Flynn, though he paid back the guys at the shop first. He got the last of it a week ahead of schedule and walked it into the lawyer’s office. The secretary recognized him this time, even asked how he was doing. Amos was too fed up with everything legal to be pleasant and lie and told her it was hard to get a divorce when the other person wouldn’t even sign a damn paper. Two weeks later he got a certificate of divorce in the mail. Mr. Flynn himself left a note, “Have a good life Mr. Hart”.

Amos stared at the note, hands tightening around it involuntarily. 

A few weeks later the guys at the shop gathered at his bay and asked him to go out with them that night.

“No thanks.” He said shortly, and pulled himself under the milk truck he was working on.

“Sorry pal, you're comin’ out.” Roland responded, crossing his arms.

Amos slid back out from under the truck to tell him to buzz off only to find the guys staring him down, tense and ready for action. 

“What's the big idea?” Amos asked carefully, looking for clues on the serious faces.

“I know that girl hurt you bad. We’re not gonna let you hurt yourself.” Gerry said sternly. 

“I'm not gonna hurt myself!” Amos spat defensively.

“So you say, yet you do not let yourself laugh.” Piotr said. Amos flushed.

“Fine.”

Relief filled the circle of faces, there were a few back slaps, like the team just won a game. Amos would think about that a lot later.

He did have a good time. And to his surprise the radio in the bar didn't play a single jazz song, pretty good luck. 

He didn’t go out every time the guys asked, but more and more often. It wasn’t ‘till three months later that he caught Earl asking the barkeep to change the station on the radio as soon as they got to the joint. Earl flushed, but crossed his arms and lifted his chin defiantly.

“Figured you wouldn’t want to hear it, after, you know.” He said. Amos smiled and slapped him on the back. And bought the guys the first round.

The day that the radio announced Roxie’s new act there was a silence in the shop. Amos concentrated on the lugs he was tightening and tried not to lose it on the wave of grief and anger and.... Well it just wasn’t right, that someone could do so many bad things and get exactly what they want, was it? What did he get, doing the right thing always, nothin’. He moved to the next wheel, slamming it on with a little more force than necessary. 

Noth-

“Amos! We’re gonna go see the Cubs on Saturday, you’re coming.” Rory called from across the shop where the guys had assembled without him noticing. “And we’re gonna do a picnic before with our families, bring some soda pops, would’ja?”

Amos let out a long breath. 

“Yeah, will do.” He’d get something out of this mess, he would.

 

It couldn’t have been a more perfect day for baseball. The weather was perfect, the Cubs were leading, and two home run balls from the visiting team had already been thrown back. Tessa and Reina, Rory and Mario’s wives, were knitting and yelling at the umps without dropping a single stitch, Rory’s oldest daughter was making her way down to the bullpen to try for an autograph, Piotr’s two youngest were balancing their soda straws on their noses and giggling, Ron’s son was talking shop with Earl, and Roland’s youngest, a cherub of the age of four was on question 29 of infinity. 

“How come they have to throw the ball back?” She asked.

“They don’t have to, but they’re not our team, we don’t want their home run ball.” Roland answered.

“But then you’d have a ball.” She continued, uncertain.

“But then our team might think we like the other team better. Don’t you want our team to know we like them?” Roland countered.

“Couldn’t we write them a letter and tell them?” She pushed, “Then we can still have the ball!”

“No, sweetheart, it’d be a bad ball. It would only break windows.” Roland answered gravely, winking at Amos’ badly hidden smile.

“Oh, you didn’t tell me THAT. How come you didn’t tell me that first?” She wondered crossly.

Amos blew it and laughed. 

 

Summer was coming to a close when a lady walked into the shop minutes after the tow truck had deposited a Model T by the big doors. She had a child with her, maybe eight years old and wearing coveralls and a newsboy cap. She saw him approach and turned fully to meet him, squaring her shoulders.

“Hello Ma’am, what can I do for you?” He asked respectfully. Jeez, she was solid, looked tougher than a lot of guys he knew. The kid watched him distrustfully.

“Alternator’s out, needs to be replaced.” She said gruffly, staring him down with intense gray eyes.

“No problem, ma’am. I can get that done today.” He said, and quoted her a fair price. Her whole stance relaxed when she heard the number. She smiled at the kid and the kid relaxed too. Maybe they were hurting for cash.

“One more thing,” She asked, sounding surprisingly shy, “Can we watch you work?”

Amos had to think about that for a minute, he didn’t really like having someone over his shoulder, but why not? Maybe they didn’t have any other place to be, no skin off his back.

“Alright, but it won’t be that interesting.” He said. They lit up.

“Thanks a million!” The lady said, looking much more excited than the situation called for in his opinion. The kid was grinning too. Amos dragged over a stool for the lady and a crate for the kid to sit on and popped the hood open. They watched in silence as he went through the motions of attempting to start the car and checking connections and wires before he started disconnecting anything. He only caught half the sentence when she started talking to the kid but he whipped around to stare.

“How did you know that was the battery ground wire?” He asked, a little dumbstruck. Rory in the next bay was startled too and listening with full attention.

“Momma used to be a mechanic.” The kid said proudly, “She said she was gonna teach me too.”

“I took care of all the tractors when I grew up on the farm. I want to teach her too, but we don’t have the right tools.” The lady said matter of factly.

“I can do an oil change though!” The kid piped. Her momma smiled at her fondly. Amos was utterly charmed. Rory was taking way too much interest in the situation. Amos pointedly turned his back on him.

“Well, if this is school, you better come closer so you can see.” He offered, moving to the side. The girl wasted no time getting to the engine. Her momma came with, giving Amos a glowing smile. He felt a little flutter in his stomach, and then turned red. Rory started pointing at him and whispering to Roland and Gerry, who apparently didn’t have anything else to do. Amos flushed harder, but there was no going back now. He picked up where he left off.

“That’s the battery ground wire, he’s going to take it off at the battery first and then from the alternator, do you know why?” The lady asked, smoothly narrating what he was doing. 

“Because it shocks ya if you don’t take it off the battery first?” The girl answered, staring hard at his work.

“Correct!” She praised. Amos felt like she’d praised him instead. He wondered what her fella thought of her working on cars. Surely a lady like this had a fella. He felt the question coming up his throat and clamped it down. Not now, he thought.

The replacement took a little longer than usual, he slowed down so the girl could have a good view of everything he did. But it was over too soon in his opinion. The girl, Sammie, was smart as a whip and her momma was the best teacher Amos had ever come across. He would’ve gone to college if his teachers had been like her. 

She paid for the work in crisp movements and crisp bills. Amos wrote her out a receipt using his best handwriting. 

“Thank you for your business Mrs.?” Amos fished. She gave a stiff smile.

“Ms. Ms. Laura Wright.”

“Thank you Ms. Wright.” He said. Ms. Wright and Sammie turned to leave. “Hey, uh..”

Ms. Wright turned, she had a tired expression on her face.

“If you want to watch repairs again you can come back to me. I don’t mind” Amos got out.

Ms. Wright’s expression softened. 

“Thank you Mr. ?”

“Hart.” Amos answered. “Amos Hart”

“Thank you Mr. Hart, we’ll keep that in mind,” she said, and out the door they went.

Amos let himself look at the door for a few moments before he turned to face what was waiting for him.

Rory was grinning ear to ear. So was Roland. So was Gerry. 

“I think maybe you should have asked the lady out to dinner, rather than invite her back to your garage, but you do things in your own way I suppose,” said Piotr, looking at him critically.

 

It was deep in midwinter when Amos saw them again. This time they drove to the shop, but not well- second gear was out. Amos didn’t bother bringing out things for them to sit on, just popped the hood and motioned Sammie over. Sammie had to have grown two inches, Amos said as much.

“You really think so Mr. Hart?” She asked, delighted.

“At least.” Amos confirmed, “Could even be three.” 

Sammie puffed like a peacock and Ms. Wright hid her smile behind her hand. It was a worker’s hand, Amos noticed, covered in scratches and a scar or two. That hurt him a little, to see her hand all beat up, but it made him proud too, because she must work awful hard. Ms. Wright was a heck of lady. She saw him looking at her hand and put it down by her side. 

“I’m sorry for staring, ma’am.” Amos apologized quickly. “That was bad manners, I was just thinking you must be an awful hard worker.”

“She is!” Sammie said proudly. “She works at the mill and she’s just as strong as any man.”

“So now that we’ve replaced the bolts we can move on to the next step.” Ms. Wright said loudly, as she turned bright pink. Amos obliged and continued the repair rather than the conversation, unable to keep a smile off his face. He was gonna have to do something about this.

Amos wrote out a receipt slowly after the repair and the lecture were done, thinking carefully about what he was going to say. He handed Ms. Wright the slip of paper and took a deep breath. Roland took sudden notice from across the garage and in a ripple effect, so did the rest of the guys.

“Ms. Wright, would you like to go to dinner with me?” He asked. Sammie looked thrilled, her momma, carefully blank. “You and Sammie?” He finished.

Ms. Wright’s expression thawed into surprise. “You want to take both of us out? Why is that?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to make Sammie miss out, would it?” Amos said seriously. “I don’t think it’d be right. Besides, she can chaperone.” Sammie was clearly delighted to be seen as capable of such an important role, she tugged her mother’s hand and stared at her with pleading eyes.

“Alright.” She said, and Amos’ heart slammed wildly in his chest. “Where would you like us to meet you?”

He gave her the address of an Italian restaurant that Mario’s cousin ran and they decided on seven o’clock that night. Ms. Wright gave him a shy smile as she walked out the door with her joyfully skipping daughter. 

The garage erupted into cheers as soon as the Model T drove off and Amos was buried in back slaps and celebrating friends for nearly ten minutes.

 

Giovanni’s was in fine form tonight and Amos was grateful. There was live music and singers, the food was perfect, and the waiter doted on Ms. Wrig- Laura and Sammie. Both the ladies had accepted the small bouquets of flowers that Amos had brought, Sammie with serious, studied manners, and Laura with an approving smile. Gosh, everytime Laura smiled at him, his stomach swooped; he couldn’t remember ever feeling this way about Roxie. Sammie had just finished teaching Amos how to hang a spoon off his nose when the conversation drifted into uncomfortable waters.

“What else do you do with your time Amos? Besides provide a much needed auto shop classroom, that is.” Laura asked, her cheeks flushed slightly from wine and laughter.

“I mostly work to be honest. Especially this last year.” Amos answered honestly, a ball of dread forming in his stomach, he should tell her about Roxie, should be honest why he doesn’t get out much. He pushed on. “I… I got divorced. My ex-wife was Roxie Hart.” There. He said it. The bandage ripped off in one tug. 

Laura’s face went through a bunch of expressions, she breathed out her nose heavily for a minute, and then picked up his hand.

“You deserved better than that.” He looked up at her in surprise. She squeezed his hand, he squeezed back, the phrase ‘disloyal husband’ ringing in his ears. 

“Momma, did you know that lady?” Sammie asked.

“The lady Amos was married to committed an awful crime and went to jail, the newspapers and the radio talked about it. Amos tried his best to be a good husband, but his wife didn’t try to be a good wife.” Laura explained gently to both Sammie and Amos. Amos felt a little pressure ease in his chest for the first time in a long time. They sat in silence for a short time, sipping wine and listening to the music.

“I thought I was going to be Mrs. Jepson.” Laura offered. “Mr. Jepson was handsome and charming and I played right into his hands. When I told him I thought I was pregnant, expecting him to whisk me off to the courthouse, he split. Never saw him again.” 

Amos reached for her hand, she allowed him to take it.

“I spent a long time certain that I did something wrong, that I wasn’t good enough or kind enough, that his charming words were a test that I failed.” Amos felt himself vibrating with anger at this piece of garbage who made her feel that way. “People in my little town were not kind when they figured out I was having a child out of wedlock so I left for the city. It was tough at first, but I made some good friends that helped me whenever they could. Once I got a job at the mill it made things easier, with the good money.”

“She had ta punch someone before they’d behave though!” Sammie interjected. Amos let out a bray of laughter before clapping a hand to his mouth. Laura had turned red and was staring Sammie down. “What?” the little girl asked.

“Did you really?” He couldn’t help it.

“On my first day one of the men grabbed my behind on the way to my station. I decked him with everything I had.” She lifted her right hand, showing off the big scar on her middle knuckle. “I knocked him right over a barrel and I haven’t had a single problem since.” She said, clearly proud.

“I gotta tell you, that’s one of the best stories I’ve ever heard. That guy deserved to be hit.” Amos said earnestly. She blushed from the strangest compliment he’d ever given a woman.

“What do you do when you’re not working?” He asked.

Laura went to museums, went to the park and sketched with charcoal, brought Sammie to the library where they would both read for hours, and dreamed of traveling. After dinner she invited him to come to the park with them while they drew. 

“I don’t know how to draw.” Amos confessed.

“I’ll teach you.” Laura said.

 

Nobody would ever buy Amos’ drawings, but he figured if you could tell it was an oak tree, he wasn’t half bad. Laura, on the other hand, must have been a direct descendant of Leonardo DaVinci. He was a little embarrassed to show her his efforts that first time at the park, his wobbly lines staring up at him from the paper, but her praise made him want to keep trying. They went to the art museum and the natural history museum and the library and Amos found himself shocked at all he’d been missing. Sammie was nine going on ten and knew a lifetime’s worth of things, it seemed. Luckily for Amos she loved to teach as much as her momma. He learned about dinosaurs, outer space, people in Australia, volcanos… the list grew and grew. If he had had a daughter, he would have been proud to have one like Sammie.

 

Amos hemmed and hawed at the jewelers. The man behind the counter was unimpressed with him, Amos thought it had something to do with the stained coveralls he had worn here directly from the shop. He had already passed on several rings with big stones and gaudy settings, he didn’t think those looked much like Laura. He moved slowly along the displays, dismissing the colored stones as well. She’d worry about it matching. He thought. Just as he was about to tip his hat he saw it. It was delicate silvery metal with a flat square diamond in the middle and some curly designs on either side of the stone. The stone didn’t stick up and look like it would get caught on things like all the others, and he thought the pretty curly designs would please Laura, who didn’t often get to dress up. He knew she loved to though, maybe this ring would let her have a piece of that all the time. If she wanted it.

He bought the ring right then; if it was gonna happen, it was gonna happen now or not at all. He went home and made himself presentable, then caught a cab towards the Wright’s apartment and practiced what he was going to say, trying very hard not to worry. Earlier that day Laura and Sammie had been at the shop watching him work. With the indulgent permission of the boss Sammie had been allowed to start using the tools herself and was replacing a headlight with fierce concentration. She carefully pried the bulb loose from the casing and held it out blindly to Amos, keeping her eyes on her work, “Could you grab that, Papa?” She asked. All three of them froze. 

Sammie recovered first. “I mean, Amos, Mr-... Could you grab that?” She backpedaled. Laura’s face was carefully blank and tense. She didn’t say a word.

Papa, Amos thought reverently.

“Sure kiddo.” He said, trying for casual. He didn’t quite manage.

Laura hustled Sammie out the door as soon as the light was repaired, excuses about ironing and chores falling flat. Amos figured she had to be uncomfortable about the word, but he couldn’t be that bad a person for Sammie to call papa, what’s the deal? He put his station back in order, wrenches lined up on the bench, jack in its spot off to the side, wires coiled and spare bolts stowed, the familiar routine settled him. He suddenly thought back to the first night they went out and Laura had told the story of Mr. Jepson, how he ran away when she told him he was going to be a father. He stilled with the realization, it probably had little to do with him and everything to do that bum. At least he hoped it had nothing to do with him, but he was willing to chance it. At the end of the day he punched out first and lit out the door. He had some things to take care of.

 

Amos paused in the hallway outside of the Wright’s door, straightened his tie, took a steadying breath, and knocked on the door. He could hear the gentle violin music that Laura put on when she and Sammie read in the evenings and had a fleeting thought of coming home to that precious atmosphere. His heart started pounding as footsteps made their way over to the door and he stood up straight and cleared his throat. 

Laura opened the door and stilled when she saw him.

“May I come in?” He asked, praying he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

“Of course, Amos.” Laura said, moving out of the way so he could enter. “I’m a little surprised to see you, to be honest. Most men don’t take kindly to being called papa when they’re not ready for it.”

“That’s why I came over. Is Sammie around?” Amos asked, scanning the apartment. Laura looked a little puzzled, but called for daughter.

“Amos!” Sammie greeted excitedly as she came out of the bedroom with a book in her hand. “I’m sorry, I called you that. Momma explained that I shouldn’t call you that without permission.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to both of you about.” Amos said. Now or never, pal. He sank down onto one knee, holding a bouquet out to Sammie and deftly opening the ring box with one hand and offering it to Laura.

“Miss Sammie, I would be pleased to be your papa, if you would have me. Ms. Wright, I would be honored to be your husband, if you would have me.” Amos proposed.

Sammie appeared to swell like a balloon with delight, she whirled around to watch her mother, searching her face for her answer. Laura had covered her face with her hands as soon as he’d dropped to his knee, but as he finished his proposal he could see the corners of her eyes crinkle and he felt a blooming hope. She finally dropped her hands, revealing a brilliant smile.

“Yes. Absolutely yes.” She answered, and Sammie whooped and charged Amos, nearly knocking him over with an ecstatic embrace. She released him and he stood up and went to Laura, pulling the ring out of the box as he went. He took her offered hand and gently slid the ring onto her finger, it was the right size, thank god above.

“It’s not a big diamond, but I thought you would like it better if you could wear it all the time instead of worrying about it getting caught at work and I didn’t think you’d want the colorful stones because they wouldn’t match everything and I thought the little designs on the side wou-” She laid a finger on his lips and he stopped.

“Amos, it’s perfect.” She said, and kissed him.

It all was.

**Author's Note:**

> I recently rewatched Chicago and decided that Amos, one of two decent characters in the whole damn movie, deserved a happy ending. Also I am aware that the majority of the Chicago Cub's superstitions were created in the 80's but I don't care, I wanted an argumentative four year old.


End file.
